Life Beyond Your Own Living Room
by EllisBelle
Summary: A sequel of sorts for “Life in Your Own Living Room” in which Maria finally meets the Doctor.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** I have had this written for no less than 2 months. I can finally post it because I finally finished "Life in Your Own Living Room."

**Chapter One: Unexpected Visitors, Terrestrial and Not So Much**

There was a time—oh, a mere couple of decades, really, she'd argue—that Sarah Jane Smith had listened constantly for the distinctive metallic whirl that accompanied the arrival of the Tardis.

She'd find herself driving down a familiar street on some errand when she'd hear something just beyond what should be there—a charge of decibels that didn't seem to belong to Mick Jagger. But a sharp glance down a deserted alley way always only revealed liter blown from a perfectly ordinary London breeze and not from a rather extraordinary time traveling police box.

Other times she would wake suddenly during the night, sure that she had been jolted from that recurring dream, the one where the giant robot kept offering her jelly babies, by a certain other-worldly sound, only to discover that it was the neighbor's cat in her shed again.

Given her previous vigilance, it is remarkably strange that when the Tardis did indeed land in the back garden of 13 Bannerman Road, the metallic whirls and clanks—and even the crunching and splintering of her arbor as it was flattened by the big blue police call box—went unnoticed.

* * *

The entire scope of Sarah Jane's attention was currently devoted to a more _terrestrial_ visitor, one whose presence was nonetheless filling her vision with spikes and spirals of light.

* * *

The length and breadth of Maria Jackson's own universe converged within the breath and bone, skin and wet of a body that no amount of physics or astronomy lectures could convince her was any less than celestial—perfect, elegant legs draped over her own, tightening steadily around her hips, the occasional, quick jerk of a knee against her ribs in counterpoint to the tense and release of muscle in Sarah Jane's lower back playing out beneath her fingers. A carefully coordinated flick of her thumb with the just-so-curve-and-thrust of her fingers and Sarah Jane's chest arched into her own--

"Alright in there, Sarah Jane?"

A not-quite-ginger head popped through the door, followed by a too-skinny body in a blue pinstripe suit.

The Doctor looked at the women in the bed.

One of them was his best friend, Sarah Jane Smith.

"Hello, Sarah Jane!"

The other was not.

"Hello, strange naked girl in Sarah Jane's bed," he trailed off. His head cocked as he thought about it, still staring obliviously at the two women currently scrambling to untangle the bed sheet and duck for cover.

Suddenly the Doctor slapped his hand over his face to cover his eyes. "Sarah Jane, there's a . . ." He peeked out between his fingers. "A _lovely_ naked girl in your bed."

One look at the expression on Sarah Jane's face and he snapped his fingers shut again.

"I mean besides you," he corrected. "Another one. Two of you, four of them . . ." He tilted his head and banged at his ear as if he were trying to water out of it. "Sorry, the maths get away from me sometimes."

The Doctor hazarded another peek towards the bed. Sarah Jane seemed to be safely behind a sheet now and the other girl was safely behind Sarah Jane, so the Doctor thought he could safely stop hiding behind his hand.

His mouth screwed up as if he'd just bitten into a green persimmon. "I'm being rude, aren't I?" he offered.

Sarah Jane nodded mutely. She must have blacked out earlier—that was the only explanation. This was all just a strange, horrible dream, probably brought on by a combination of years of exposure to Artron energy and the skill with which Maria had been touching her.

Clearing the length of the room in a few quick paces, The Doctor held out his hand enthusiastically in greeting and stepped towards the bed. "It's nice to meet you, lovely naked girl. I'm the Doctor."

Maria made no move to shake his hand; her hand was too busy tightening possessively against Sarah Jane's thigh.

The Doctor looked down at Maria's hand.

Sarah Jane looked down at Maria's hand.

Maria even looked down at her own hand to see what all the fuss was about.

"Ahh, you're right. Probably shouldn't shake hands just yet . . ." He tucked his previously proffered hand into his pocket and rocked awkwardly back on the heels of his red trainers. After all, he _had_ caught a quick glimpse of just where her hand had been when he popped through the door.

Sarah Jane's mouth moved as if she were about to say something, _probably something unpleasant_, yet nothing seemed to be forthcoming.

Maria buried her face into Sarah Jane's neck, inhaling the familiar scent of lavender cream, and reminded herself to breathe. This was certainly not how she had imagined meeting the Doctor for the first time. Her visions ran more along the lines of his arriving to save the day from the latest alien threat only to be informed that she and Sarah Jane had already handled it, disposed of the baddies and saved the Earth _again_. These little fantasies more often than not ended in a long, knee-melting kiss—between her and Sarah Jane that is, not her and the Doctor, and certainly not the Doctor and Sarah Jane.

"Doc-tor," Sarah Jane finally managed.

"Yes, Sarah Jane?"

"Get out. _Now_. Please."

"I'll just wait outside then, shall I?" He jabbed a finger into the corner of his eye and squinted. "Probably something good on telly. What year is this again? 2012. No, nothing good on telly really. Well," he shrugged, "not until Catherine Tate takes over from Billie Piper on that _naughty_ show." Sarah Jane looked on in disbelief as the Doctor geared himself up for a good ramble, all the while still standing in her doorway. "I'll make myself a cup of tea . . . check the chrono-modulator on the Tardis . . . take the dog for a walk." At that his face broke out in an enormous grin. "Say, where is K-9--"

"Out!"

He left.

Sarah Jane slumped back against Maria and flinched as the door thudded closed behind the Doctor. She squeezed her eyes shut, allowing herself a brief moment to bask in her own mortification.

When she finally turned to face Maria, she saw that the girl had gone positively . . . _blotchy_, her skin seemingly caught between draining of blood from shock and blushing furiously from embarrassment.

She brushed her fingers through the sweat damped curls clinging to Maria's face, replacing the dark strands with her lips, writing an apology across her cheek. "Let me just go sort him out."

Maria nodded and watched Sarah Jane climb from the bed, still using the sheet as an impromptu toga, as she tried to sort her pajamas out from the tangled heap of the duvet that had fallen off the foot of the bed.

"So . . . _that's _. . . the Doctor?"

"That's him."

Sarah Jane released a frustrated sigh.

How much of the irritation in that sound was actually aimed at the doctor and how much was the result of the fact that she was standing on the part of the duvet that she was currently trying to pull up was left for Maria to worry over.

The sheet fell and Sarah Jane's still-flushed skin quickly disappeared beneath her pajamas.

"Were you expecting him?"

Sure, spoken out loud, the question seemed silly given the scene that had just taken place, but Maria couldn't shake the gnawing feeling that had settled into her stomach. Sarah Jane hadn't been expecting _her_ last night either. She hadn't called to let Sarah Jane know to expect her until she was already standing at her door.

Sarah Jane's wry smile seemed to agree that it was indeed a silly question. "Expecting _that_?"

Still, Maria was not entirely reassured. She remembered all those times when Sarah Jane seemed to come alive while she talked about the Doctor, hazel eyes shining with the light of alien sunsets and newly-born constellations. The Doctor was all those things and she was just Bannerman Road.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Potted Geraniums and Other Souvenirs**

Sarah Jane leaned over the banister and craned her neck to look into the too-quiet sitting room below. Seeing no sign of the Doctor, she headed in the other direction and wasn't surprised to see the attic door open. Of course, the Doctor had managed to find her attic and everything it held, all the jumbled alien artifacts and sentimental souvenirs from her adventures in the Tardis. She felt another pang of embarrassment heap itself onto the already healthy amount she seemed to be wracking up this morning. And it wasn't even 9 o'clock yet.

But then really what was discovering that she was a sentimental old fool who surrounded herself with mementos of their shared past when faced with the fact that he had just caught her at the tail end of a rather extraordinary orgasm.

And there he was, flipping through the book she'd written about U.N.I.T., spinning absently back and forth in a dusty office chair.

"Tell me, Doctor. Is the world about to end in 15 minutes or less?"

The Doctor couldn't help but smile at the sight of his best friend standing so sternly in the doorway, arms across her chest—in her Jim Jams.

He looked down at his watch, squinted, and then thumped it. "15 minutes or less?" he laughed. "Noooo."

"Good. Then make yourself at home and keep yourself occupied for a bit, will you?"

"Right."

Despite her dismissal, she made no move to leave.

"How are you, Sarah Jane Smith?"

_What a question_. But one that was awfully easy to answer. She smiled. "Things are . . . good."

He knew that smile, the one that crinkled her nose and made her look 12. Sarah Jane was happy, well and truly happy, and he'd wager he knew what—or who—was the cause of it.

"Good, good. You look well—very fit—probably getting lots of exercise," he teased impishly, ignoring the cross arching of her eyebrow at his insinuation.

But Sarah Jane couldn't keep the pretense of anger up for long. Six years ago—before Deffry Vale—she couldn't have imagined a time when their friendship would come this easily. Now, however, it didn't seem to matter how long had passed since they had seen each other; they fell effortlessly back into this familiar banter.

"Just don't break anything," she warned, only half teasing. "Or fix anything. Or talk to the neighbors. And _do not_ come back into my bedroom."

"Right-O." He went back to thumbing through her book.

"Oh and, Sarah . . ."

She paused with her hand on the doorframe, momentarily transported by the old familiar use of her name, and turned—only to see him holding up a picture of his fourth incarnation alongside his newish head, grinning like the bloody Mad Hatter.

"How about that? Better hair now!" He ran a hand over his spiky mop. "Yes? Come on. It's great hair even if it's not ginger."

"I liked your old head better." She resisted the urge to stick out her tongue as she made her exit.

"Oi!" he called after her. "Which one?"

He heard her laugh from the landing below.

* * *

Sarah Jane went back to their bedroom—_her_ bedroom, she corrected, only to find

Maria pulling on a t-shirt. "Maria?"

She looked at the bag laid out on the bed, watched, confused, as Maria shoved her things into it.

"What're you doing?"

"I was just going to leave."

"I thought you were staying the weekend." Sarah Jane had planned for her voice to sound far less disappointed than it did, somehow less clinging. Maria was young. She obviously had other plans—another life outside nosey Timelords and their washed up companions.

"I thought you'd want me to go."

Sarah Jane was genuinely confused by the girl's hurt tone.

"Why?"

"Well, the Doctor's here now, isn't he?"

"Ahh." Sarah Jane felt the remnants of a blush still burning down her chest. She could only imagine the way Maria must be feeling. "I promise there won't be any more scenes like earlier. He's in the attic under strict orders to never set foot in this room again."

"That's not it," Maria said, fussing at the sleeve of a t-shirt that was hung up in the bag's zipper. "You have something more important to get to."

Sarah Jane sat down on the edge of the bed, pushed a hand through her bangs. "Come here. Please?" Maria quit pretending to bother with the bag but didn't look in her direction. Taking Maria's hand, Sarah Jane pulled her towards her until she was standing against her knees.

"Look at me." When Maria's down turned face remained hidden behind a blanket of hair, Sarah Jane tilted her own head down, only to find Maria's eyes absent of their usual light. _Damn_. Sarah Jane was not good at this—never had been. Hesitantly, she slid her hands underneath the hem of Maria's shirt, grazing her fingers across the soft skin at her waist, communicating what she could not find the words for. Maria's eyes closed as her fingers spread and rose to span the harder contours of ribs, topography she had memorized with mouth and breath and fingers. "There's nothing more important than this right now, nothing more important than you."

Maria's eyes opened to meet hers.

"I'm not a point that you need to prove to the Doctor."

Tempered with fear as they were, her words were spoken with far less venom than they implied—still, Sarah Jane flinched as if she'd been slapped, her hands falling away.

Part of her wanted to walk away, to scream that she had told Maria not to get involved, that she'd only hurt her. Because she was not good at this. But if Maria thought that . . .thought that she was just some substitute, then she was worse at all _this_ than she had ever thought.

"You don't really believe that do you, Maria?"

"No." And she didn't, not really, but . . . "It's just—how am I supposed to compete with him?"

She felt like an ass. _Pathetic_. But it was said now.

"You don't." Sarah Jane stood up. She framed Maria's face with her hands. "You don't have to compete. You have nothing to prove. Whatever was between the Doctor and me—anything that was ever beyond friendship—was over a long time ago."

Maria started to protest, but Sarah Jane brushed her thumb against her lips and continued before she lost her nerve: "There's no one I'd rather share it all with than you." She pressed her forehead against Maria's—it was too much to keep looking into those eyes. "_Maria_, I--"

With timing that only a vengeful universe—or an accident-prone Timelord—could muster, a booming crash echoed from above.

There had been enough crashes and small explosions in her house over the past four years that Sarah Jane could now pinpoint their origins within a meter. And that one definitely came from the attic. Just to the left of the sofa, she'd guess.

"_Tea's done!"_

"I thought you said you left him in the attic."

Sarah Jane stared warily up at the ceiling.

"I did."

"Then how was he making tea?"

Sarah Jane sighed.

It still wasn't gone 9 o'clock yet.

* * *

"Right, fully clothed introductions—_and that's the last we ever speak of that_—Doctor, I'd like for you to meet Maria Jackson. Maria, love. This is the Doctor."

"Smashing to meet you again, Maria. Any friend of Sarah Jane's, you know."

"It's nice to finally put a face—or one of them anyways—with the name. Sarah Jane talks about you all the time."

Sarah Jane smiled self-consciously.

"So what can we do for you, Doctor?" she asked.

"Thalira-Queen-of-Peladon's getting married."

Sarah Jane marveled at his ability to make that sound as if he were speaking of an old school chum instead of the leader of a distant planet they'd once help liberate.

"That's lovely. Anyone I know?" Sarah Jane played along.

"Don't think so." He obviously didn't get the joke. "I've never actually met the groom, err bride, non-gendered species, always mucking up the quaint terminology."

"While I'm very happy for Thalira, none of this explains what you're doing here. Unless you need me to help you choose a wedding present, and I'm afraid I don't know where they're registered."

"I've come to pick you up."

She glanced at Maria then back to the Doctor, as his words sank in.

"You've come to invite me to a wedding?"

"Technically, Thalira did the inviting. She just didn't know how to get the invitation to you."

"I don't think--"

"Whadda ya say? Spin in the Tardis. Peladon. Just like old times."

He shot her his award winning grin—no really, he'd won an award for it on Raxakor Prime, got a lovely little statue shaped like teeth—but it didn't seem to be having any effect. He pulled out the big guns: "Want to bring her along as your plus one?" He jerked his chin in Maria's direction.

One look at the painfully eager expression on Maria's face and Sarah Jane knew what her answer would be. Though she was more than a little confused by Maria's reaction.

"What about your classes?"

The Doctor surveyed Maria curiously and then whispered loudly to Sarah Jane: "She's still in school? Sarah Jane, how old _is_ she?"

"She's at University."

"I'm 18," Maria explained, not one to let others speak for her—not even Sarah Jane. "Almost 19."

Sarah Jane inwardly cringed—only the very young approached aging with such determined enthusiasm.

"I'm done until Wednesday," Maria continued. "Besides, don't _you_," she looked pointed at the Doctor, "have a time machine? Couldn't we be back in 30 seconds? Or sometime last week before we'd even left?"

The challenge in her voice was clear, as was her fascination with the possibilities, despite her best efforts to disguise it.

"Excellent." He rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "All settled then. Let's go—wedding starts in an hour."

"I'll go get my things." And with that Maria hurried from the room.

Sarah Jane caught the Doctor by his elbow as he started out to do . . . whatever it was he did to ready the Tardis.

"Straight to Peladon and straight back," she warned. "You have to promise."

"Cross my hearts."

"Things are dangerous enough here on Earth, without us getting thrown in the middle of every intergalactic civil war that we happen upon."

She wasn't just teasing him about his ability to find, well, some would say _trouble_, but he liked to think of it as _fun_. Sarah Jane was serious. She was worried. And he was certain it was not about her own wellbeing.

He had to hunch down to be able to catch her eyes. "She'll be fine."

The spark of pride in Sarah Jane's eyes suggested that she was more than aware of Maria's capabilities and yet—

"She really means a lot to you, doesn't she?"

Sarah Jane searched for the right words.

"She's my best friend."

She hoped he remembered.

"Much more than," she amended.

Oh, he remembered alright.

"Straight to Peladon and straight back," he promised.

"Good. I need to call Luke, let him know we'll be gone for a bit."

* * *

The scene was eerily like the one she had returned to find earlier that morning. The same bag was lying on the bed—now empty of its contents. Maria's face was once again troubled—

"I just realized that I have no idea what to take with me. What do you pack to travel across time and space?"

And yet it was so very different.

Sarah Jane came up behind Maria and wrapped her arms around her, leaning her chin on her shoulder, surveying the pile of clothes on the bed.

"I went in with a smart suit and an ink pen and came out with a stuffed owl and a potted geranium." She neglected to mention _those_ overalls.

"_That_ helps."

Maria felt the soft vibration of Sarah Jane's laugh against her back, a quick press of lips against her temple.

Sarah Jane savored the feel of Maria in her arms, warm and soft and smelling wonderfully of vanilla and—she smiled—her own lavender cream. Knowing the Doctor as she did, this might be the last quiet moment they had alone for quite some time. She hated to risk spoiling it, but she had to know.

"I'm surprised you wanted to come along—after earlier."

Maria turned, stepping out of Sarah Jane's embrace.

_Damn_. She should have just left it. Why couldn't she--

"I decided that it would be the only logical thing to do." Seeing that Sarah Jane obviously did not follow, Maria explained: "If I didn't go, you wouldn't go—I could tell that you really wanted to . . . And if you really are just friends . . . and I have nothing to be jealous of, then I'll see it for myself, first hand."

Maria _was_ a very mature 18—maybe it was because she was closer to 19.

"Besides, I've wanted to go for a trip in the Tardis for the last four years." She smiled, and for the first time in what seemed like hours to Sarah Jane, it reached her eyes. "I've wanted you for slightly less."

Maria Jackson had a talent for leaving Sarah Jane speechless.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: I Traveled Through Time and Space and All I Got was This Lousy T-shirt**

Maria stared at the TARDIS.

_The_ TARDIS.

She'd heard Sarah Jane describe it often enough. She'd seen pictures of it even. She knew that it looked like a police call box. A _blue_ police call box.

But somehow she still hadn't expected it to look quite so much like a _blue police call box_.

"It really does just look like a big blue box." She reached out and picked a bit of peeling paint off with her fingernails. ". . . a tatty blue box."

"Hey," The Doctor warned. "But it's--"

"Bigger on the inside?" Maria finished.

The Doctor pursed his lips petulantly.

"I've heard."

"Well, where's the fun in that, I ask you—the childlike wonder?"

"_Shall we?"_

Sarah Jane interrupted Maria's gloating and the Doctor's pouting, stepping between them to push open the TARDIS door and disappear inside without so much as a by-your-leave to the Doctor. But then when had she ever needed an invitation?

The Doctor and Maria stared after her.

They looked back at each other for a beat before the Doctor winked at Maria and offered, "After you."

* * *

It was almost too much to process all at once: the massive arches of the ceilings, the impossible veins of wires and cables and tubes all run haphazardly about, the otherworldly glow that pulsed out of the walls. On the edge of her perception Maria could just make out Sarah Jane grasping her hand.

Watching Maria, Sarah Jane remembered her own reaction to first seeing the TARDIS' improbably vast interior. _First you doubt your depth perception—then you doubt your sanity._ Somehow now it seemed even more alien—less sterile, more alive. The same delicious knot of anticipation was building in her chest.

A blue blur streaked past them towards the control panel.

"It really _is_ bigger on the inside."

The laughter swelled out of Sarah Jane at Maria's whispered observation. She couldn't resist pulling her into her arms and squeezing her for all she was worth, time and relative dimensions in space momentarily forgotten in the heady contrast of soft breasts and harder shoulders. She missed the slight shift of hands, the tipping of Maria's face towards her own, until it was almost too late. Sarah Jane's eyes darted from Maria's decidedly tempting mouth towards the control panel where the Doctor was busy pulling levers and checking gauges.

"Now this is more like it!"

Just this once Sarah Jane silently thanked the Doctor's _impeccable_ timing. She gave Maria what she hoped was a reassuring smile, but not a kiss.

The Doctor punched a few seemingly random buttons, pressed down on something that bore a striking resemblance to a bicycle pump and called, "Ready?"

Hands still clasped tightly together, Sarah Jane and Maria joined the Doctor at the consol.

He looked to Maria.

She bit her lip and nodded anxiously: "Absolutely."

"Sarah Jane?"

She squeezed Maria's hand tightly before releasing it to brace both her palms flat against the control panel. "Definitely."

"Then here we go!"

They held tight as the TARDIS jolted and bobbed its way through space. When the Doctor seemed to be checking some instruments with a hammer, Maria wondered if she had made a terrible mistake. He leaned back to shove at another lever with his shoe. She was quite certain they were going to die. The TARDIS gave a final teeth-jarring shudder. "Here we are." And then it was just over.

"That's it?" Maria asked incredulously. "I mean, already?"

"Yep." The Doctor practically swaggered towards the door. "Peladon awaits."

"Of course, there is every likelihood that we are _not_ on Peladon."

Maria recognized the subtle twitch at the corner of Sarah Jane's mouth. She was winding him up.

The Doctor looked offended by the very suggestion. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

"Probably another quarry, some cave—or better yet," Sarah Jane went on, "some distant moon where the inhabitants breathe fire and like their humans fried extra crispy."

"I never took you to Draconius VI." He scoured his memory. "_Did I_?"

"There's really a planet were the people breathe fire?" Maria cut in.

The Doctor shrugged. "Seven of them actually."

He popped his head outside the TARDIS for a look around. "It's Peladon, alright. Though it looks like they've done a spot of decorating since the last time we were here."

Sarah Jane joined the Doctor at the door, more than a little anxious to see what Peladon had become after all these years. The last time she was here she hadn't seen much more than mile upon mile of dark mines.

"Wait," Maria called. "We can't go to a wedding like this, can we? I mean, dressed like this." She motioned down at her casual top and jeans, perfect for a day at home with your girlfriend but not exactly vogue for a royal wedding.

The Doctor looked down at his own suit; he spun like a dog chasing his tail to look at it from every angle. He paused and appeared satisfied with his assessment. "Well, I _had_ planned--"

"The wardrobe!"

Most people considered Sarah Jane Smith to be distant and closed off. Maria's own dad had called her _frosty_. Truth be told, this perception was something that Sarah Jane herself fostered, preferring to keep most people at arm's length. But most people had never seen Sarah Jane smile as she was now. This was the smile that generally only appeared when she'd finally gotten one of her strange gadgets to work after weeks of tinkering or when Luke told one of his corny jokes—or when she woke up in the morning to find Maria still sleeping next to her.

She was still smiling when she tore off through the TARDIS, pulling a stunned Maria behind her.

* * *

They turned down hallway after hallway, each subtly different, yet maddeningly similar. Maria was almost certain they had circled back a few times. Still, Sarah Jane seemed to know where they were going. Though how, Maria couldn't fathom. She was thoroughly disoriented by their twists and turns through the bowels of the TARDIS.

Finally Sarah Jane shoved a door open and exclaimed triumphantly, "Here we are—oh."

A quick peek past Sarah Jane revealed, of all things, a broom cupboard.

Sarah Jane's brow furrowed. She swung around and tried a door on the other side of the corridor. "Aha! The TARDIS wardrobe. You'll love this."

* * *

Maria thought perhaps the term "wardrobe" was bit misleading—though in the Narnia sense it might not be too far off the mark. Craning her neck, she could see at least four levels connected by a spiraling staircase, all packed full of clothes. Clothes of every possible sort. There was a suit of armor in the corner, a lovely beaded dress draped over a chair; a sweater covered in question marks was thrown down in the floor. There was more velvet and lace than she had ever seen in one place.

"What does the Doctor need with all these clothes?" She had to ask, because really it did seem like an awful lot for one man, who as far as she could tell, wore the same suit every single day.

"Never know when you'll need to blend in with the natives," Sarah Jane explained, her voice muffled as she passed behind a stand of coats.

Maria pulled out something frilly and red from another rack, tried to picture the natives who would have worn _that_. "Not all his though, are they?" _Please say he didn't wear this._

"Oh, no. Heaps of this belonged to the people who've traveled with him over the years."

_That's just creepy. _ Maria understood that they lived on the TARDIS too but she didn't like to think about the Doctor and his long line of companions—one companion in particular—involved in this bizarre orgy of clothes.

Maria kept these thoughts to herself however. It didn't appear to seem in any way abnormal to Sarah Jane and Maria _had_ decided to come along to Peladon in hopes of understanding this part of Sarah Jane's life. She let it go and tried to take it all in—this experience was proving nothing if not paradoxical.

* * *

Just as there were clothes from every conceivable time period, there also appeared to be clothes of every conceivable—and a few inconceivable—colors. Maria's hand skimmed across sky blue pants, a jumpsuit that impossibly appeared to be both solidly black and solidly white at the same time, a mustard yellow tunic—and something nauseatingly pink.

"Who wore _this_?" She held it out for Sarah Jane to see.

The equally pink flush of Sarah Jane's cheeks more than answered Maria's question.

"You wore a," she examined the item in question more carefully to make sure she wasn't mistaken, "a pink sailor's suit?"

"It was a different time," Sarah Jane offered as way of excuse.

Maria didn't even attempt to stifle her laughter, but she did manage to choke out: "And hopefully a different planet."

Sarah Jane chose to pretend she hadn't heard that remark. After all she hadn't actually been on Earth when she'd worn that, just a passable facsimile.

"Still," Maria continued. "I bet you were cute in it."

"If we are quite finished with this trip through my sartorial history . . ."

Maria laughed even harder as Sarah Jane snatched up a suspicious bit of orange fabric and disappeared behind a row of Edwardian suits.

This left Maria on her own and more than a little curious as to what else had belonged to Sarah Jane once upon a time. She never would have suspected that pink get up—Sarah Jane had always appeared so stylish and, well, glamorous.

As she wondered through the wardrobe, she found herself less concerned with what she was going to wear and more with what Sarah Jane had worn. A voluminous white robe with feather trim—no. A tiny denim corset with ruffles—quite possibly. A school girl's uniform—she'd better not have. Magenta knee boots—Maria grinned. Those were definitely Sarah Jane's.

But Sarah Jane was already changing and she still hadn't found anything to wear. The thought of Sarah Jane undressing just behind that line of smart silks and linens didn't exactly spur on her search for a posh frock. And once the thought was there it was rather tempting to join her. _No_, Maria scolded herself. It was her first outing in the TARDIS and it would be rude to be late for the wedding. But—watching Sarah Jane undress, or better yet, assisting in that process, was still all so new and not at all something she was particularly keen to pass up.

Before the night of the great seduction, as she privately referred to it, Maria had only seen Sarah Jane anything less that dressed once before. Clyde recalled that day as the time he shot himself in the foot with the Venusian ray-gun. Maria would always remember it as the time they burst in on Sarah Jane in the bath. Not that she'd actually been starkers or anything—she'd had on a towel. A blue one. Shock and anger and concern—Clyde's trainers had been on fire after all—had all passed over Sarah Jane's face in rapid sequence and, when she'd looked back over her shoulder to catch Maria staring at her, something that Maria couldn't quite name was there as well. Maria had gone red and Sarah Jane had gone back to helping Clyde douse the green flames with the spray from her shower, but not before Maria had committed both the curve of Sarah Jane's thighs and the angle of her shoulder blades to memory.

That evening they all had a serious talk about not mucking about with alien tech they didn't understand—and the equal importance of letting Sarah Jane know when they were in the house.

* * *

"Haven't you found anything yet?"

Sarah Jane was standing at the bottom of the staircase, dressed and ready to leave.

Maria was staring at Sarah Jane, flushed and struggling to breathe.

Sarah Jane's skirt and top were made of some shiny material, a lot like leather except . . . not. The top was black and sleeveless, the skirt an unapologetic orange. She had on strappy heels and for once, gloriously bare legs.

It was an ensemble that in theory simply should not have worked, but somehow in practice, it was . . .

"It's not pink," Sarah Jane teased.

No, but it _was_ short and clung to all the best places.

"It's orange."

Of all the sweetly poetic and startlingly graphic comments floating through her brain, _that_ was the one that tripped out of her mouth? _Naff_, Maria thought. _Very naff_.

Sarah Jane took Maria's rather obvious declaration in the appreciative spirit it was intended and laughed. There was no mistaking that look in Maria's eyes. Of course, she'd seen the same look when they'd weeded the back garden a few weeks ago and she'd been wearing wellies and paisley gardener's gloves then. She'd never been quite so thankful for her very tall fence.

"You have five minutes to find something suitable or I make _you_ wear that pink number."

* * *

"All these clothes and not a mirror in sight," Maria muttered to herself. That might explain some of the more unique ensembles she'd run across. She'd just have to trust that the little black dress she'd settled on would do. Black leggings and silver ballet flats scrounged from a trunk in the corner and she was finally ready.

* * *

"What do you think?" Maria twirled and demonstrated how the dress swirled out around her knees, a single Crayola blue stripe around its hem making a bright loop.

_What do I think? _

_I think I'm going to have a very hard time maintaining a respectful distance today._

_I think I should be too old for the things I want to do to you. _

_I think I've fallen in love with you. _

"I think we've kept the Doctor waiting long enough, love."

* * *

To be continued . . .


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four: The Doctor Always Cries at Weddings**

* * *

Despite the fact that they had traveled across countless light years and through the space/time vortex itself and taking into account the time they had spent dressing for the occasion (and then trying to find their way back to the control room after Sarah Jane made a wrong turn at the kitchens) and even given the time it had taken the Doctor to empty and then refill his pockets at the security check at the gates (who just carries a bag of marbles around in his pocket, anyways?), they had arrived at the palace a whole half hour early.

* * *

The first five minutes passed in a blur.

The cavernous hall where they were currently seated was packed with several hundred guests, some humanoid, many not.

Royal blue flags, all embroidered with a line of golden stars belonging to a constellation Maria wasn't familiar with, billowed from the ceiling.

Guards in Romanesque armor stood at attention along the marbled walls.

Except for a giant gilded statue of a horned pig-bear at the front of the hall, it looked remarkably like any other royal wedding she'd ever seen on telly, if she squinted a bit.

* * *

The next five seemed to drag to compensate for the first.

Maria was trying not to stare. Trying and failing. On one side of her sat Sarah Jane and the orange skirt—on the other, a blue tinted person who seemed to be hovering, ever so slightly, in the air. He'd caught her staring once and smiled indulgently. Sarah Jane had caught her twice and squirmed uncomfortably both times.

* * *

The following ten were only marginally better.

Maria rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically as Sarah Jane and the Doctor began round four of _do-you-remember-the-last-time-we-were-here?_ Occasionally one of them would pause to explain some point to her. The pig-bear was actually called Aggedor, a sort of minor deity. He'd died protecting Queen Thalira—the-last-time-they-were-here. The chief mineral export of Peladon was trisilicate. That's what all the fuss had been over—the-last-time-they-were-here.

Had it not been for Sarah Jane's fingers absently coiling into a strand of her hair as her arm rested on the back of the bench, Maria would have found it annoying.

* * *

The Doctor realized they had been being rude and naturally overcompensated.

No, she did not want to play I-Spy to pass the time. Nor did she care for the half-wrapped piece of gum he'd fished out of his pocket.

"He's just trying to make friends," Sarah Jane explained, leaning close so the Doctor wouldn't overhear. She didn't need to add "so please be nice." The little lines of worry around her smile said it for her.

"You chew that gum then."

Sarah Jane blinked at her and just as her smile started to fade, Maria grinned: "It had lint stuck to it."

* * *

"The green alien with the antenna."

"Nope." The Doctor popped that last syllable in a most irritating fashion.

"The green alien with the antenna sitting next to him."

"Wrong again."

Maria reluctantly scanned the hall one more time. There had to be over a hundred people wearing some shade of green in one form or another—be it robes, dresses, or strange head gear. She'd counted no less that 23 aliens who were themselves green, not to mention the bloody great floral arrangements hanging from every column.

She flopped back in her seat. "I give up."

"No. I know," Sarah Jane cut in. "The green alien with the antenna sitting next to the other green alien with the antenna who's sitting next to the first green alien with the antenna."

"That's my clever Sarah Jane!"

Maria took exception to both the possessive pronoun and the tone that implied _her_ Sarah Jane was a puppy who'd just brought him the newspaper.

Those last ten minutes seemed to stretch on well past their allotted 600 seconds.

* * *

When the processional began with a startling burst of fanfare, they rose—well, the person next to Maria floated—all eyes turning towards the back of the grand hall.

Attendant after attendant made her way down the aisle. They were all gorgeous, exotic the way alien royalty should be. Each had long, coppery hair with a streak of white-blonde down the center. Six chanting priests followed in a cloud of yellow incense. A line of elaborately armored guards appeared next, with swords drawn.

When the Queen finally did appear, try as she might, Maria couldn't get a good look at her, covered in swathes of shimmering purple as she was.

* * *

As anxious as she was to see Thalira again after all these years, Sarah Jane couldn't focus on the spectacle in the aisle. Her attention was drawn instead to the figure at her side—the one she couldn't get close enough to, the one she couldn't seem to stop touching. Her hand inevitably bumped into the back of Maria's and dark eyes, wide with awe, drew away from the ceremony just long enough for Maria to glance down at their hands and to offer Sarah Jane a lopsided grin in understanding.

Maria loved her.

And despite all her intentions to the contrary, she loved Maria.

It was terrifying.

And she'd certainly never meant to let it happen, had sworn after the first time that there would not be a second. By 10 am the next morning, she'd already been proven a liar. Then two weeks. Fourteen days of strained phone calls—_the ones filled with small talk, where they tried to pretend that nothing had happened were the worst_—harsh ultimatums—_if Maria insisted on pursuing this, then they just wouldn't be able to see each other at all, in any context_—and tears, _just as often hers as Maria's_.

She'd taken all the photos of Maria down, put them away in a drawer—out of sight, out of mind. But to her horror she'd found she didn't need photos to be haunted. She'd slept in the guest room for a week, refused to even go into the attic for days. Even the bloody kettle reminded her of Maria.

Once she'd very nearly marched across the street to tell Alan what had happened, to admit everything, sure that his reaction—the anger, the disgust—would give her a proper perspective. A proper perspective was something that had grown more and more elusive every day that had passed without seeing Maria. It was wrong—_had to be_, she'd told herself. She was nearly 60; Maria was 18, still practically a child. And her son's best friend. But then Maria was her best friend too. Sarah Jane knew from experience that you shouldn't fall in love with your friends.

Yet all it had taken was one flimsy excuse of an emergency—she could have handled that situation at the NWU campus just fine on her own—and here they were, calling every night, splitting their weekends between Maria's apartment and her house. On the rare occasion when they didn't see each other on the weekend, one of them would inevitably make some excuse to show up during the week, some looming threat she needed help with, some book Maria just had to borrow for a paper.

And when—if—she did something to bollocks it up, it would be devastating. She'd never been any good at relationships, generally lost interest or more likely they did—she was too wrapped up in this story or that, too closed off and distant, cold.

And those never had the remarkable hurdle of a 40 year age difference—though once she'd thought a 700 year age difference didn't matter in the least.

That one wasn't her fault. And it had still hurt the worst.

She suspected this would hurt more.

But right now, watching Maria, it hurt even more to keep from saying something she'd inevitably regret.

She settled instead for lacing her fingers through Maria's and paying her a long overdue compliment: "_Lovely_—you look lovely."

* * *

Even if she hadn't understood half of it—especially the part about the caves and the sky gods—it was still a beautiful ceremony. And if the loud sniffle coming from the other side of Sarah Jane was any indication, The Doctor obviously thought so too.

* * *

Her first night after moving to Bannerman Road Maria had snuck into Sarah Jane's back garden and watched as her strange new neighbor helped a wayward Star Poet find its way home. Since then she'd met Bane, Slitheen, Graske, Gorgons, Uvodni, Sontarans, Menoptras, Gelth, Haemovores—and a Timelord. Yet somehow, none of them had been quite as alien as Ambassador Alpha Centauri.

As best Maria could tell, most of the Ambassador's body consisted of one enormous, blinking eyeball. The rest was made up of green skin and tentacles and what appeared to be fins, causing him to move across the floor in an awkward, halting gait. His high pitched voice seemed mismatched to his large body as he exchanged pleasantries with the Doctor.

Maria felt herself recoil a fraction as a tentacle shifted in her direction as way of greeting. She smiled and hoped no one else—especially not the ambassador himself—had noticed. But the blush of embarrassment was already creeping up her neck. She was relieved to feel Sarah Jane's hand at the small of her back, drawing her in closer.

"I had the same reaction the first time I met him," Sarah Jane whispered.

"And you, Sarah," Alpha Centauri shrilled, "are you still prone to the rash behavior of human females?"

"Oh, most definitely, Ambassador," Sarah Jane laughed, turning her attention back to her old friend, yet leaving her hand where it belonged, tracing small, comforting arcs against Maria's back.

* * *

_At least they weren't being held at sword's point this time,_ Sarah Jane thought. Though waiting on an audience with the Queen was nerve-wracking nonetheless.

A sea of attendants rushed around the room, and as the guard announced their presence, Queen Thalira looked eagerly in their direction. Her smile faded and she looked puzzled as she recalled the guard and conferred quietly with him.

Sarah Jane's eyes narrowed suspiciously at the Doctor. "Doctor," she whispered, "exactly how much time has passed since we were last here—for them?"

He scratched his head and shrugged: "Five, six years."

_Nothing like the 30 that had passed for herself._ No wonder Thalira looked confused.

Thalira herself looked almost exactly as Sarah Jane remembered, all amber eyes and porcelain skin, though her bearing had most definitely changed. Before she had seemed as if she were playing dress-up in the robes and crown, but now she looked every bit the Queen, confident and regal.

"Her majesty will see you now," the guard reported.

At least there were no swords and no pits this time.

* * *

Thalira shrugged off their synchronous bows and rose from her throne to join them, clasping Sarah Jane's hand eagerly in hers.

"Oh, I was so hoping you would come, Sarah." She said "Sarah" as if it were exotic and hard to pronounce. She spared a glance at the Doctor. "And you too, of course, Doctor."

He raised a curious eyebrow at being recognized without question.

"I've been reading my father's journals," she explained. "Seems you tend to change faces, the way others change clothes. I've so often wished you would have accepted my offer to stay on in Peladon."

She smiled almost nervously, looking from the Doctor to Sarah Jane. "I feel I owe both of you a great debt. Especially you, Sarah."

"We didn't do anything, really," Sarah Jane said. "And look what _you've_ done since then."

Thalira glowed under the compliment then looked past Sarah Jane and for the first time seemed to notice Maria.

"And who is this you've brought with you?"

"Maria," Maria introduced herself. "I'm Maria Jackson."

Obviously that didn't shed any light on the girl's identity for Thalira as she looked first to the Doctor and then to Sarah Jane for further explanation.

Sarah Jane took Maria's hand, exchanging a surprisingly shy smile with the her. "Maria's my"—_best_ _friend, lover, partner, girlfriend_—"date," Sarah Jane explained.

Thalira's smile widened.

"Are you from Earth as well then, Maria?"

* * *

"Are you sure you didn't leave something off your comprehensive list of things you did the last time you were here?"

"I explained women's lib to her."

Maria's mouth formed a cheeky, "O," as in "_Oh, if you say so_."

"She is a bit of alright though, isn't she?"

"Sarah Jane!"

* * *

At dinner they shared a table with two elderly senators from neighboring planets and a diminutive ambassador from yet another who seemed to become fast friends with the Doctor. The four of them were all tucking in enthusiastically to the best this side of the galaxy had to offer in the way of cuisine and sampling even more earnestly from the drinks menu.

The two humans at the table approached the _colorful_ dishes a bit more warily and with good reason.

Maria sipped at some gingery tasting wine, trying to wash away the lingering traces of a dish that managed to be both rubbery and crunchy at the same time, and listened to snatches of conversation at the table around her.

"The banana daiquiri—now there's a drink!"

"—stole the ship right there at the press conference—"

"—hardly compares to the pan-galactic—"

"—didn't vote for the man myself."

"—woke up on a freighter bound for Clom three days later, naked—"

"How is it that we just made love a few hours ago—"

"—should have his head, both of them—"

"—and already I'm near desperate for you again?"

Maria's eyes shot round the table.

No one was gapping in shock, no one looking morally affronted. They were all too engrossed in their own conversations to hear.

Maria grinned.

Of course, Sarah Jane had realized that before she'd said it.

Sarah Jane pushed her chair back and stood. "Excuse us, won't you?" Maria assumed she was the other half of that _us_ and happily followed suit.

"Oi!"

_Damn_.

The Doctor brandished his fork, some pink puffy thing with a tail dangling precariously off the end: "See if you can find more of these lovely little prawn thingies, will you?"

* * *

Sarah Jane silently thanked god, Aggedor, or whoever else might be listening, that locks on Peladon were remarkably similar to locks on Earth—silently praised herself for still being able to whisper "Up you go" with some degree of command when faced with dark curls and darker eyes and talented fingers skimming beneath her shirt. But Maria obeyed, scooting up onto the edge of a marble counter, and raising her hips so Sarah Jane could strip leggings and knickers down in one.

Then all the command seemed to have seeped out of her. Even command of her own skin—breathe-move-blink—slowed as she watched Maria—took in the dress pooled around her hips, the pink flush painted across her cheeks and throat—Maria was almost too lovely to be real—swallowed as soft thighs fell open around her hips—lovely and ever so beautifully wet.

Sarah Jane slowly dropped to her knees, listened for the "oh, please, please, please" she knew would follow and bent her head to breathe across her.

Maria's hips jerked against the marble and Sarah Jane's breath caught. She never ceased to be amazed at the level of response she could draw from Maria's body, even without touching her.

And when she did touch her—a light kiss just where it would have the most effect—Maria's whole body reacted—her name gasped out in a stutter as her back arched, a tremor along her thigh, right down to her toes curling against Sarah Jane's back—so perfect, but a mere fraction of what could be pulled out of her—but not just yet. She teased her tongue 'round, stopping just short.

Sarah Jane almost smiled at the frustrated groan from above, did smile at the hissed "don't— tease me."

Maria's hand found Sarah Jane's hair, tangled into it to tilt her face up until their eyes met. "The way you look on your knees—if you could see—I'm so close just from watching you."

Her words had the desired effect: breath and tongue and teeth and lips again, bringing her closer.

"Oh—god—Sarah—keep—doing—_that_—"

Even preoccupied as she was, Sarah Jane knew Maria was being too loud. Maria was always too loud. But somehow, somewhere in the heady rush of the past few months, _too loud_ had become _just right_. In her own house, there was no one else to hear and the echo of it kept her company weeks when they couldn't see each other. And in Maria's apartment where the sound seemed amplified by the small space, it made her clumsy and near desperate for more—it also made her careful to avoid Maria's neighbors in the hall. But here, here she didn't particularly fancy being overheard.

She tried unsuccessfully to reach Maria's mouth, to dampen her cries with her hand, but Maria was leaned too far away. Once she had come close, her fingers finally managing to slide across Maria lips when the girl had rocked forward to grasp at her head. Instead of quieting, Maria had pulled her finger into her mouth and nipped at it before falling back again, babbling something about blue towels.

Sarah Jane gave up—gave up and stood up without warning, leaning over Maria.

Maria's eyes had snapped open—"Sarah Jane?"—and she was already starting to whine—"but I want your mouth—"

Sarah Jane pressed a finger against Maria's lips—"shhh"—replaced her finger with her mouth, teasing her lips apart.

She felt Maria smile—"I taste"—_oh, god_—"good." Sarah Jane could feel the moan echoing through her own throat this time. "Almost as good as—"

Sarah Jane clamped her hand over Maria's mouth before they were both too far gone to care who overheard.

She let her fingers ghost along Maria's sex—"Don't you ever"—slid them inside until her palm was flush against her—"stop talking?"

She felt a quick, hot pulse of air against her other palm—could guess which word that had been—as she found a slow rhythm that soon had Maria writhing against her hand.

Lacking Maria's usual commentary, she had to translate the straining of fingers against cold marble—_just like that_—decipher the counterpoint rise of hips—_harder_—the silken tightening around her fingers—_so close, I'm going to—_

"Not a word." Sarah Jane dropped her hand from Maria's mouth, stilled the fingers inside her, leaving Maria grasping at her wrist to make her move again. A roll of her thumb and Maria gasped. "Not a sound."

She lowered herself to the floor again, lowered her head for one more taste—licked and savored and scraped her teeth across the hard knot of nerves—curved her fingers into just the right—and Maria was coming, hands clutched in her hair, hips jerking into her mouth and—

"Oh—Fuck—Sarah!"

_Damn_.

* * *

Maria blinked through damp lashes, smiled lazily up at Sarah Jane. Only to find her looking annoyed.

"_Oh-fuck-Sarah_?"

Coming from Sarah Jane's mouth in that flat tone, and so unlike anything she'd usually say, that set off both a giggle and a faint tremor where that mouth had last been.

But Sarah Jane wasn't laughing.

"Sorry."

Any lingering fear that the other woman might actually have been angry with her was dispelled as Sarah Jane's fingers circled her wrist and guided her hand beneath _that_ orange skirt. Maria gasped across Sarah Jane's cheek—Sarah Jane bit her lip to choke back her own—as Maria's fingers found her hot and wet even through her knickers.

Maria was surprised when Sarah Jane didn't withdraw her own hand, but instead covered Maria's fingers with her own, moving them just where she needed—small, rough circles again and again—until her nails bit into Maria's hand and she buried her face against her neck to keep from crying out.

Maria smoothed a piece of hair behind Sarah Jane's ear and whispered: "At least I didn't say 'it's orange' again."

Maria wasn't sure if the trembling in Sarah Jane's back was more from the lingering effects of her fingers or from laughter.

"Oh, Maria—I do love you sometimes."

Maria's smile faded as Sarah Jane's hoarse words sunk in.

_I do love you sometimes._

It was the sort of thing you jokingly say to a friend. It was the sort of thing Sarah Jane would have said before, probably had done.

It was not what you whisper to a lover—especially not to a lover whose heart was breaking to hear the real words.

And Sarah Jane obviously hadn't realized what she had said, hadn't even thought enough about it.

Maria answered quietly: "And _sometimes_ I think you do."

Sarah Jane pulled away from her, smiled faintly before her eyes widened with confusion giving way to something very near panic as her own words repeated in her mind.

"You might even say it properly one day and mean it."

Maria slid down from the counter and smoothed down her dress. She brushed past Sarah Jane who was still just staring at her and tried to sort out her underthings. There was no way to get them back on in any dignified fashion.

"Maria, I didn't mean. . ."

She settled for speed rather than grace.

"I know." And Sarah Jane didn't even realize that was the problem.

"Just, please—not _here_."

Not _here_? Not _here_ in what probably amounted to the ladies' here on Peladon? Or not _here_ while she was having such a lovely trip with the Doctor?

It was all too much right now, right _here_, and it all came pouring out: "I also know that you wouldn't kiss me in front of the Doctor—even after everything that happened this morning, all he'd already seen—you wouldn't."

She wanted Sarah Jane to protest, to make some excuse. But Sarah Jane didn't reply—her silence confirming what Maria had suspected.

She wasn't even looking at her anymore, was backed up against the counter, staring down at the floor.

She looked guilty. Sarah Jane looked utterly ashamed.

Maria felt as if she had fallen and all the air had been knocked from her chest.

For the first time all of it felt _wrong_—and part of her hated Sarah Jane for that.

That part of her made sure Sarah Jane _was_ looking at her as she left.

"But you seem to have no problem fucking me whenever you feel like it."

* * *

"There you are." The Doctor beamed up at Sarah Jane as she approached the table. "Did you find more of those prawn cakes?"

"You asked me once if I wanted to travel with you again." Her words came out in a rush. "Did you mean that?"

She sounded almost afraid to hear his answer. Not that she had any reason to be as his grin grew exponentially.

"Always," he promised.

He watched as she exhaled a shaky breath.

"Then I've changed my mind. The answer's 'yes.'"

His Sarah Jane always could manage to surprise him.

Half an hour ago she'd been staring all moon-eyed at her Earth-girl. He'd half expected the next wedding he attended would be theirs.

"What about—"

"We'll take Maria home. _Today_."

_Ahh_. So that explained the sudden need to hide away with him. He had to admit that he was more than a little disappointed.

He tried a different tact: "And Luke, what about him?"

"Luke will be fine. He has his own life now, doesn't really needed me any more."

"Now that's not true."

"Doctor, _please_."

Panic. Now that wasn't like his Sarah Jane at all.

"I'd love for you to come with me." And he really would, no matter what the reason. He pulled out the empty chair next to him. Sarah Jane sat down and gave him a weak smile. He draped his arm around the back of her chair and leaned closer. "Want to tell me what happened?"

"No."

* * *

Half an hour later and Maria's chair was still conspicuously empty.

The Doctor was telling Sarah Jane about the time he'd ended up in an all night poker game with the Face of Boe.

It was a good story but Sarah Jane's attention seemed divided between staring blankly at the empty seat across from her and scanning the crowd for any sign of Maria, not that she'd admit that's what she was doing, mind you.

"So then I said to the nun, 'That's not a kitten, it's a—"

"Where is she?"

He was glad she'd finally given up the pretense, but did she have to do it just when he was getting to the best part?

"Haven't seen her since the two of you slipped off earlier."

Sarah Jane flinched.

That sort of thing just wouldn't do.

"Annoying isn't it?" The Doctor propped his chin in his hand and regarded her thoughtfully. "When the people you came with wander off all on their own. No warning, just gone. Fallen down a great gapping hole, kidnapped by a pre-Renaissance cult, slowly suffocating in a room with no air, about to be sacrificed by the—"

Sarah Jane could have done without the list of her own less than heroic exploits, communicated this by smacking his arm until his elbow slid off the table. It certainly didn't make her feel any better about the fact that Maria was missing. But she did appreciate his effort to lighten her mood, even if it only made her worry more.

"She probably went back to the TARDIS," he offered.

* * *

The Doctor put his arm around Sarah Jane's shoulders, scrunched her up next to him as they walked. "How's a trip to Florana sound?"

"You're not still using that tired line?"

She was teasing. That was a good sign.

"Stick with what works, I always say."

Sarah Jane stopped suddenly and he nearly toppled over her.

"She's not here."

The Doctor surveyed the empty plaza where the TARDIS had landed. She was right. Maria was nowhere to be seen.

That wasn't such a good sign.

* * *

The Doctor squinted up at the sky. "Do you—"

"Funny, I thought—" Sarah Jane began—"_the TARDIS used to be blue_." What an odd thing to say as the color drained from everything around her.

But then her head seemed to be coming apart and maybe that explained it.

She was vaguely aware that the ground had disappeared beneath her and only mildly surprised when it collided full force along the length of her body a few seconds later. The colors returned in a bright prism behind her eyes before everything was swallowed by black.

To be continued . . .


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five: If They had Honeymoons Here, This One Would be Over**

There was a distinct difference in waking up from a pleasant night's sleep and waking up after being knocked unconscious. It was a distinction Sarah Jane knew quite well, and squinting against even the pale lights of the TARDIS, she recognized this as a definite case of the later.

She attempted to ask "What happened?" to whoever might be around to explain why she had just woken up face down on the floor with a blinding headache but was fairly certain it did not come out that way. It sounded far more like a groan as her hand rubbed at her throbbing temple.

Inarticulate or not, it got the Doctor's attention. He grimaced and inhaled through his teeth, paused long enough from whatever it was he was doing at the console to explain, "Sorry—might have thrown you a bit too hard."

She sat up, drawing her knees up under her and keeping a steadying hand on the floor as the room swum around her. _Thrown her?_ "What?"

He stared intently down at a monitor and pressed a dizzying amount of keys on the console below. "That's not good."

_Well, it certainly didn't seem so._ _The last thing she remembered was standing outside the TARDIS—on Peladon and now—_

She attempted to stand up. "What's happened?"

"Planet's gone."

She reeled—whether from the sudden upwards motion of standing or from his words, she couldn't be sure—and took several drunken steps to join him at the control panel.

"Gone?"

"Ahh, no. There it is. Nope." He banged his hand against the monitor again. "Gone again and, hmmm, still there, just fuzzy."

_They'd gone to the TARDIS looking for—_

"Some sort of containment shell—blocking the sensors." He checked another screen. "Oh, those are _so_ illegal."

"Doctor—"

"Good job we got out when we did. Looks like someone's turned off all the power on Peladon."

"Doctor—"

Her tone didn't leave him the option of ignoring her again.

"Did we leave her down there?"

And the look in her eyes didn't leave him any option but making it right.

"I'm working on it."

*************************************

There was a distinct difference in waking up from a pleasant night's sleep and waking up after being knocked unconscious. It was a distinction Maria had come to know better than she'd like over the past few years, and blinking against the darkness surrounding her now, she recognized this as a definite case of the later.

It was the prone figure currently draped across her chest that she was having trouble recognizing.

She was certain of one thing: it was not Sarah Jane.

She shook the nearest appendage, what she took for an arm—a slender, feminine arm—until she heard a muffled groan.

A hand slammed down into her stomach—"Ow!"—as the figure launched away from her. She heard a loud thud and something she took for a curse.

"Where am I?!"

Maria recognized the accent, the imperious lilt, even in the dark.

"Thalira?"

"How—_Maria_?"

"Yeah."

"Where are we?"

"I was sort of hoping you would know."

"How would I—we were outside on the Eastern terrace. I—I don't remember anything after that."

"Neither do I."

Maria sat up carefully. Her head meet with the ceiling and she had to slouch down as she extended her arms until her fingers brushed metal on either side.

"I think we're inside some sort of box."

*************************************

They tried all the usual avenues of escape.

They ran their fingers blindly over every inch of the space but didn't find anything even remotely like a lock or latch or door or seal or even a vent.

They screamed for help until they were hoarse and near deaf from the reverberating echo.

They kicked, as best they could in the cramped space, at the walls around them but nothing.

"I don't suppose people from Peladon have any sort of special powers—melt metal with your eyes, super strength?"

"No. Do humans?"

In any other circumstances the curious inflection of Thalira's response would have been enough to make Maria smile.

In these circumstances she merely sighed and answered, "No."

"Oh." The disappointment in her voice was clear.

"We're stuck."

"Yes."

Maria leaned back against the wall and considered their limited options. No vents meant no air and they had been doing an awful lot of screaming and thrashing about.

"We didn't find anything—no openings, no vents—if there aren't," she didn't want to say it. "Well, the air in here would last longer if we stopped talking."

She took Thalira's silence as agreement and drew her knees up to her chest. She was not the sort of person who panicked but she was pretty bloody close at the moment. Being stuck in a small, dark box on the wrong side of the universe probably moments away from suffocating was enough to do that to a person. This was certainly a far cry from how she'd started out her day—if this even was the same day—who knew how long they'd been in here unconscious—no, she'd woken up to Sarah Jane's fingers sliding across her stomach, a whispered "good morning, you" against her ear—but now—and the last thing she'd said to her had been—how had it all gone so horribly wrong? Two words sprang to mind: the Doctor. But that really wasn't true or fair, however much she'd like to blame him. He hadn't had anything to do with the fight she'd had with Sarah Jane. That one had been coming on for—

"I'd rather keep talking."

Thalira's words were startling in the dark, but she couldn't agree more.

"So would I."

"This isn't how—"

"They'll find us—Sarah Jane and the Doctor. I know they will."

*************************************

"—were a little too easy to deactivate which makes me think they were just a distraction, something to buy a little time."

The Doctor's voice echoed through the deserted hall, bouncing from one marbled wall to the other. Less than an hour ago they'd had to nearly shout to be heard over the din of orchestral music mixed with the boasting and arguing and schmoozing of several hundred dignitaries, all bumping elbows, tentacles, wings, and cybernetic appendages as they mingled.

"Now where has everyone gone?"

Sarah Jane wondered vaguely how it had taken him this long to get around to that particular question. Especially since it had been one of the first she'd voiced once they'd entered the palace to find it too still and too quiet.

And especially now that they weren't actually alone at all.

"Doc-_tor_—" She grabbed at his elbow to get his attention then slowly raised her hands above her head.

"Hmm—oh." The Doctor raised an eyebrow at the sword now pointed levelly at his chest. He took in the row of guards flanking them and grinned down at Sarah Jane. "This is just like the last time we were here."

*************************************

"—then up comes some queer little tune. The Doctor was singing to him—_singing_ to Aggedor. It was . . . astonishing—Aggedor meek as a kitten at their feet, letting the Doctor scratch behind his ear."

It was the third time she had heard this particular story—the third time _today_—but somehow the familiarity of it, retold now in the soft cadence of Thalira's voice, was almost comforting. If the Doctor and Sarah Jane could face down a horned pig-bear god thing with only a lullaby and a glass trinket, surely she and Thalira could manage a bit of dark, some cramped quarters—she'd quit worrying about suffocating because, well, they hadn't yet. Obviously they'd missed something in their search but it was the sheer not knowing that was nagging at her now—not knowing where they were or how they had gotten here or who was responsible. Not knowing what was happening back on Peladon, not knowing where Sarah Jane was.

"Of course, we had them released immediately. Not even Chancellor Ortron could argue with the judgment of Aggedor."

*************************************

"Guards, stand down!"

The swords lowered as did their prisoners' hands.

"You have no authority here. Guards, take them into custody at once!"

And up came the swords again as an elderly figure in the sweeping, garish robes of a Senator followed hot on the heels of Peladon's new royal consort.

The Doctor took Sarah Jane's hand and pulled her closer in lieu of raising them in surrender again.

"I said, 'stand down,'" Laliari commanded. Most of the guards obeyed, several hesitated, confused, and one was already looking towards the Senator, ready to brandish his weapon again.

"If they can help find—"

"Doctor, Sarah, isn't it awful?" Alpha Centauri's shrill voice effectively ended the argument, the awkward bulk of him dispersing the confounded guards as he approached.

"What would we do without good old Alpha, aye?" the Doctor whispered.

Sarah Jane ignored the burning that had started in her chest. Alpha Centauri was famously prone to exaggeration and outright hysterics. Maria could still be fine. She'd probably come elbowing her way through the crowd at any moment—still angry, no doubt, and doubly so at having been left behind—although only temporarily and certainly not intentionally—but she'd gladly face the cross set of Maria's mouth and the hurt dampening her eyes, no matter how gutting it was to see, would make it right if—

"The queen is gone—and so is your other companion, the other female."

The Doctor managed not to wince when Sarah Jane's nails bit down into his palm—but only just.

*************************************

Sarah Jane had upset centuries old social conventions by explaining how there was nothing _only_ about being a girl—or a miner. The Doctor had been blown up and arrested and assumed dead. Sarah Jane had been accused of conspiring with Galaxy 5, Eckersley exposed as a traitor and the Ice Men from Mars defeated.

"Some honeymoon you're having."

Now all that was left was small talk.

"What is that?"

"Oh." Maria briefly wondered why it was always the awkward terms that needed explaining. "It's after the wedding, your wedding night, when you—"

"Ah, I see," Thalira interrupted. "Yes. Things have not been going according to plan."

The corner of Maria's mouth quirked, the absolute understatement of that answer threatening to draw out a giggle.

"Have you had one?"

"What?"

"A honeymoon—with Sarah."

And _that_ did make her laugh.

*************************************

The Queen's personal guard nervously shifted his considerable weight from one foot to the other.

"Please," Laliari began, "tell them exactly what you saw."

The guard's head briefly bowed to his new monarch before he addressed the figures gathered in the ante-chamber. "Her majesty wished to take the air on the Eastern terrace." He glanced toward Sarah Jane and the Doctor. "The other human was there as well. They were speaking and then—they were gone, disappeared. I've—"

"Aggedor has spoken! An alien usurper has been allowed into our midst and now we shall feel Aggedor's wrath—"

"You." The Doctor pointed a finger at the senator, whose mouth was still open, frozen mid-tirade. "You're not helping."

"Some sort of teleport," Sarah Jane cut in.

The Doctor nodded. "Now we just need to know where to and by whom."

He wrinkled his nose for a moment then clapped his hands together. "I've got just the thing."

*************************************

Just the thing turned out to be a small hand-held device with coils and sensors and dials and a long tube coming out one end. It looked suspiciously like a miniature leaf blower—a miniature leaf blower that could scan for transdimensional energy dispersal. He pointed the tube towards the sky and cranked a dial. "Here we go. Stand back." He made a shooing motion with his free hand and Sarah Jane took a step back, fully prepared to duck for cover should this go the way things usually did.

But nothing happened.

"Any second now."

The device remained just as quiet as before. The Doctor looked mildly embarrassed.

"It worked last time," he muttered.

He shook it—and nothing.

He blew across the sensor bar—and nothing.

He called it a rude name—and still nothing.

Maria could be anywhere. Sarah Jane took a deep breath and exhaled, trying to push her mounting frustration out and away from her. Maria could be hurt or worse and he was bollocksing around with his contraption.

"Here," Sarah Jane demanded, practically snatching it from his hand—so much for Zen breathing. "Let me see it." She pulled open the back of the casing and stared down into the tangle of circuits and wires. She poked around with her index finger, chewing on her lip before popping a long red wire free and throwing it in the Doctor's direction.

He absently stuffed it into his pocket and frowned.

"Err, Sarah Jane, I think you'll find we actually needed that bit to make it go."

She ignored him and crossed a gold wire to a blue one before sliding the casing back into place.

It hummed to life in her hands.

"Hey!"

She handed it back to him, arched an eyebrow and motioned for him to get back to it.

He pointed the scanner skyward again and the tube glowed blue as he asked, "Where'd you learn to do that?"

"I've built one of these from scratch before—albeit less portable. Maria and I had to cart it up a hill—"

She brushed her fingers across her mouth and shook her head. "Anything?"

"Hmm-hmmm-hmmm." He pointed the scanner in this direction and that, studying the readings with each new position. "Hmm-hmmm-hmmm."

"Well?"

"Hmmm-hm—"

"Don't start that again."

"Illyrian."

Sarah Jane mentally ran through the vast catalog of species she'd become at least passing familiar with over the years until she arrived at _Illyrian_.

Surely not.

"Illyrian?"

The Doctor nodded.

"Yep."

Upon waking up that morning, there were many questions Sarah Jane could have logically heard herself asking during the course of her day—_Are you awake, love? Want to go for a drive to Salisbury_ _to check out some odd reports about a dinosaur in a public garden? Can you pass me that spanner? Chinese or Thai?—_

"Maria's been kidnapped by space pirates?"—was not one of them.


	6. Chapter 6

"_Maria's been kidnapped by space pirates?_"

"Suppose you could call them that," the Doctor explained. "But—disabling an entire planet—even temporarily—and kidnapping the monarch of a Federation planet—that's not like the Illyrians, not their style, too grandiose, too much attention—they're mostly petty thieves, small time, blackmailing, gunrunning, organ harvesting, slave trade—"

He paused. It really was extraordinary how the blood could drain from his friend's face like that—_oh_.

"Sorry."

*************************************

They'd been moved. Not that they could see anything—but they had certainly felt it—jostled nauseatingly from side to side—then dropped.

Moments later they were being lifted bodily out of the box by some large . . . person, who didn't relax _his(?)_ grip at all as they were marched half blinded down a narrow hallway and shoved unceremoniously into a cell.

Maria left Thalira railing at their jailor—who despite her protests and threats said not a word as he slammed the door shut and turned the lock with a loud thud—to study their surroundings.

It was better than the box—that was about all she could say for it—dusty floors, a bare pallet in one corner and shelf with a tin pitcher in the other. The walls looked solid— a quick scan revealed no ducts or other avenues of escape—with only one small window, barely larger than a mail slot, just above eye-level.

She pulled herself up now to peer out as best she could. There was a city, though its architecture was a strange hodgepodge of ramshackle wooden buildings and sleek space-aged cubes. The sky above glowed a milky orange. It didn't look like anywhere she was familiar with—of course, she really hadn't expected it to.

"Can you see anything?"

"Just buildings." Maria moved so that Thalira could take her spot at the window.

Maria did not especially like the look on Thalira's face when she turned back to her rather too soon.

"Do you know where we are?"

"One of the outer planets maybe—Narentine or Illyria. But I can't be certain."

Generally this was the part of the adventure when they would have retreated back to Sarah Jane's attic to have Mr. Smith tell them everything he knew about the people of Narentine and Illyria, from their philosophical leanings to their lethal food allergies. As it was, she settled for reminding Thalira that she was not from around here.

"_Outer planets_?"

"Beyond the boundaries of the Federation. But not part of Galaxy 5 either. They were ports—prosperous ones—during my grandfather's reign but now they're just a hub for illegal trade between the two. They have a small fleet of ships that board other vesicles—strip them of all that's of value—parts, cargo, sometimes even people."

"Of course." Maria slumped down onto the pallet, hugged her knees to her chest, and sighed. "_Space pirates_. What else would it be?"

*************************************

"This is my fault."

The Doctor regarded Sarah Jane thoughtfully for a moment, peering at her over the bridge of his glasses. "I see." He went back to work at the console. "Masterminded all this with the Illyrians, did you?" he added, even as he double checked the coordinates.

Sarah Jane shook her head. She wouldn't let herself off that easily. It _was_ her fault, all of it.

"If I hadn't—if I'd just told her—" And there had been plenty of opportunities to tell her—last night when Maria had been standing on her door step, bag in hand still holding her mobile to her ear with the other—or this morning when she'd finally managed to wake Maria up enough to return her sleepy-clumsy kisses. They'd even been at a bloody wedding today and if ever an occasion allowed clichéd romantic gestures that was it.

"Ahh," the Doctor interrupted. "We're going to play The If Game." He rubbed his hands together eagerly. "How's this? If you'd never become her lover, she wouldn't have been here today. If you'd sent her away without a second glance, never let her help you, become part of your life, she'd be as happily oblivious and safe—and bored—as the next person."

He paused, waiting for some response beyond rapidly widening eyes.

"Hmmm?" he prodded. "My turn could take a while—have to start back at my academy days really—it'd be sometime before I even got around to you and how if I'd just wiped your pretty little mind and tossed you out of the TARDIS as soon as we'd got back to 1980—the one without the dinosaurs—you'd have been living in Croydon writing articles about local politics and village fetes instead of chasing aliens, nice boring, articles and you'd be happily oblivious and safe too, well, err, safe-ish. Of course, instead of dredging up all those what ifs, we could just track down the Illyrians and get Maria back and then you could fix whatever it is you think you've done." He shrugged his shoulders, finally taking a breath. "Up to you." He set a dial and seemed done with the whole thing.

Sarah Jane remained stood in the middle of the TARDIS.

"I did send her away," she offered quietly. "She came back and refused to leave again."

She didn't share how often that had happened—it had been more times than she'd care to admit.

Eventually Maria would stop coming back—anyone would if pushed away often enough.

*************************************

"You can open the door now, Dragor. But stay close."

Maria's attention snapped towards the door.

The voice outside sounded vaguely familiar but she couldn't place it.

Thalira was frozen in the center of the room, listening too. She didn't seem to notice when Maria rose to stand beside her.

Maria took a deep breath and steeled herself to face whoever was on the other side of that door.

When the door creaked open, she was ready to come face to face with Captain Hook from Mars, orange skin, tentacles, extra head and all—without flinching.

Instead, her gaze fell—and fell some more—to meet the smiling face of the undersized ambassador from their table at the reception.

"_You_?"

His smile wavered only briefly at her tone.

"Hello, again." He nodded then to recognize Thalira. "Your majesty."

"Ambassador Rygell, I demand that you release us at once."

"I'm sure you do. And I will—as soon as your senate accepts my terms." He pulled a data pad from his coat and handed it to Thalira.

Thalira glanced down at it distastefully then pulled herself up to her full height and squared her shoulders. Her voice took on an imperious edge that Maria hadn't heard before.

"Crais has just as much opportunity to buy trisilicate as any other Federation planet. If you think this sort of extortion is going to give you any advantage—"

She paused, studying his odd reaction.

He looked smugly amused, less like someone who was on the receiving end of a rather good dressing down and more like someone who was in on a joke that the rest of the room wasn't privy to.

"You're an agent of Galaxy 5," she finished quietly.

He smiled happily and Maria couldn't help but wonder if he were still drunk from the reception or if he just genuinely enjoyed this sort of thing that much.

Thalira examined the data pad again, mentally calculating the figures, until her eyes went wide.

"But that's not possible." She'd reached an impossible sum. "It would take at least six months to mine that much trisilicate and that's if we halted all other shipments."

"I'm sure Dragor," he swept a hand towards the door, "won't mind taking care of you in the meantime. And you." His attention fixed on Maria.

"What could you possibly want with me?" She was honestly baffled. She wasn't monarch of a planet practically made of trisilicate, wasn't important or rich in any way—she could barely afford the rent on her flat every month.

The ambassador looked at her as if she were being a bit slow.

"Ahh, but you're traveling with the Doctor, aren't you?" he explained. "One of his companions."

"No." Traveling with him though she might be, companion to the Doctor she was not.

"Now we both know that's not true," he laughed. "You were simply too convenient to pass up—as is the chance to possess the last of the Timelords' great machines—with that we could win the war and not even need the trisilicate from her majesty's backwater planet."

"The Doctor is not going to trade the TARDIS for me." And that was the absolute truth. She almost doubted that he'd willingly do that for Sarah Jane or even Rose—certainly not for a companion's companion that he'd only just met.

Ambassador Rygell considered her words and rubbed at his nose. "You may be right," he admitted. "I'm not certain he'll come for you. They were, after all, planning to dump you back on your planet—Earth, isn't it?"

This earth, alien as it might be, tilted sickeningly beneath Maria's feet.

And apparently it showed because the Ambassador took her hand and murmured, "Oh, now don't look so distressed. The woman did look rather upset that you had run off, perhaps they will come. We'll wait and see. And if they don't come for you or they aren't willing to give me what I want then, well, I'm sure Dragor could find something for you to do as well—spare parts if nothing else." He turned her hand and studied her wrist appraisingly. "Humans are so rare these days in this part of the galaxy."

Maria snatched her hand away, was preparing some nasty retort that would have done Clyde proud, when Thalira suddenly cut in: "I'll ensure that my counsel pays you twice the trisilicate you've demanded if only you won't harm her."

"Wait and see, shall we? Wait and see." He smiled again. "In the meantime, enjoy Dragor's hospitality." His nose wrinkled in distaste as he took in the room around them. "Sadly this is almost the best Illyria has to offer."

He knocked at the door—"Dragor, door."—then twitched his fingers at them and was gone.

*************************************

Thalira had watched helplessly as Maria seemed to collapse into herself as soon as the door was closed again. She'd tried to make herself as unobtrusive as possible, to allow her new friend some privacy despite their circumstances—but those very circumstances really made it quite impossible. There was simply nowhere in the small room that she could pace without noticing the sporadic rise and fall of Maria's shoulders, no distance that could drown out the muffled sobs breaking through the hands clapped tight against Maria's face.

"She promised."

It was little more than a murmur but so sad that it pulled Thalira across the room to stand in front of Maria. And despite her inexperience in these sort of physical displays—for no one had ever expected the Queen herself to console them—she extended a hand, laid it gingerly against the girl's back, not sure how to offer any other form of comfort.

"Maria, don't. You'll only—"

"I was wrong."

"We don't know that what he said was true."

"I don't know how I was so wrong. I thought—" Maria hid her face in her palms again.

Thalira couldn't bear to see this continue.

"Maria, please don't do this."

Nothing—just another shuddering breath.

"Not _now_." Thalira felt a knot of guilt settle in her stomach. It was an underhanded tactic, so seemingly selfish—but it had the desired effect: Maria's head raising, wide, red-rimmed eyes finally meeting hers.

"I'm sorry—so—stupid—crying over her, when we're here." Maria tugged the sleeve of her dress down over her palm and swiped at her face, erasing the damp trails staining her cheeks.

"You shouldn't have done that—earlier." Maria cut off Thalira's protest before she could voice it, "But thank you. No way will the Doctor give him the TARDIS."

"I couldn't repay Sarah's kindness in the past by letting something happen to you—because no matter what _he_ says, I saw the way she looks at you. Many things are different about our cultures but some things are very much the same."

Maria offered a weak smile as Thalira slumped beside her, all the regal posturing draining away in the movement.

"However, I'm not so certain that my senate, much less the Federation, is going to agree to those terms. I fear I might be more expendable than I'd like to think. Certainly less valuable than a year's production of trisilicate."

"Is it my turn to say, 'I'm sure that's not true'?"

Thalira made a small noise that couldn't quite pass as a laugh. "Relations between Peladon and the Federation are still tenuous at best," she explained. "And half of my own senate is probably crying that this is Aggedor's wrath because I married an alien. The other half would be just as happy to be rid of me." She smiled wryly. "They haven't agreed with the changes our government has undergone lately."

They sat in silence for a moment before Maria stood up, determination etched into the set of mouth—she wasn't going to sit around waiting for Sarah Jane—not anymore—and she certainly wasn't about to hang about until the Doctor showed up to rescue her—and so they couldn't count on the cavalry riding in from Peladon but—

"We can't wait to be rescued."

"Exactly." Thalira nodded eagerly. "How do we escape?"

Maria really wished she had an answer for that question.


End file.
